


hold together

by Bloodsbane



Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, TMAHCweek, Touch-Starved, aroace Daisy, nonromantic jondaisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: It’s a surprise to get a text from Jon. They never meet on Mondays, but apparently something came up at work and he needs a ride home. There’s room for Daisy to question it, but she decides it’s less effort to send back an affirmative and get back to her own job.---Daisy helps Jon. It's just what she does.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Series: tangled weeds in concrete cracks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898941
Comments: 7
Kudos: 132





	hold together

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, finally, some more jondaisy
> 
> This fic is set in the same AU as _[let me hold you, taste your tears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612783)_ (nsfw), which you really don't have to read to enjoy this one. All you need to know is that Jon and Daisy are Weird Friends™ who cuddle sometimes, usually when Jon is having a bad day.

It’s a surprise to get a text from Jon. They never meet on Mondays, but apparently something came up at work and he needs a ride home. There’s room for Daisy to question it, but she decides it’s less effort to send back an affirmative and get back to her own job. 

When she sees Jon outside the old, tall building, it reminds her of the first time they met. She’d spotted him across a crowded room, sitting alone at a table for two. The event had been organized -- it had been his choice to attend. Yet there he sat, back straight, shoulders even, with dark eyes and slender hands that shook, nearly hidden in the shadow of the table. Daisy had gone to him because she knew, just from that first, fleeting assessment, that she could give him what he needed.

So now here she is. Jon stands, arms crossed, talking to two other people. Or, rather, it looks like they’re talking next to him. Every now and then Jon’s mouth moves, and maybe one of them laughs, but he’s not laughing. His back is straight, his shoulders are even; his hands are tucked into his sides, beneath his arms. He’s rocking, just slightly, on the balls of his feet. 

Daisy pulls up, window already down, and doesn’t say anything when Jon notices her. Interrupting the conversation of his colleagues, Jon offers a swift goodbye before walking around Daisy’s car and climbing into the passenger’s seat. 

The coworkers wave; Jon does not wave back, but he does nod through the window. He says nothing. Daisy doesn’t either, only turns the radio on and drives. She’s coming from a different direction, but she knows almost instinctively how to get back to Jon’s place. It takes them about twenty minutes. 

Jon looks like he needs a smoke, Daisy can’t help but think. She knows he’s been trying to quit, though, so she doesn’t suggest it aloud. When she parks, she flicks off the radio and rests her hands on her keys, not turning them yet. Their eyes meet. 

“Do you… Would you like to come in?” Jon asks. 

“Sure.” Daisy lets the engine die.

As they’re standing in front of the door, Jon digging his keys from his little handbag, it occurs to Daisy what word she’s been subconsciously looking for: fragile. It’s easy to see and understand, now, standing right behind Jon as he stiffly pushes key to lock. She’s much taller than Jon -- big enough to cast a shadow, one that could swallow him up. She’s broad and where he’s scrawny, sturdy and sure where he’s waifish. Maybe it’s no surprise that, to her, he might seem fragile.

It’s certainly not in his look, not exactly. Daisy remembers his expression when they’d met. She’d sat herself down at the table, uninvited, and his glare had been polished, a weapon he wielded with practiced ease. No, Jon was not shy. No, Jon was not weak. He was a stubborn ass. 

And yet, as they cross the threshold, he hesitates. Daisy grumbles a little, but waits in the doorway. 

“Do you think we could…” Jon is staring down at the floor. His fingers twist together, nails flirting with cuticles, a subtle threat Daisy is sure he has no idea he’s making. “I mean, would you mind…”

“Jon. Spit it out, would you?” 

“I’m- The couch. Could we, uh, lie down first?” 

“Not feeling up to tea?”

Jon doesn’t answer, but his arms wrap around himself again, like when he’d been standing outside that building. Ah, Daisy gets it now. 

“Sure.” She closes the door behind her, flips the lock. “Want some water?”

“You can get some, if you want it,” is the response. Jon is already fleeing towards the couch. 

Daisy rolls her eyes. She gets herself a class of water, drains it, then refills it for Jon. When she meets him at the couch, he’s already taken his shoes and socks off, as well as his tie, all tossed aside haphazardly. He’s sitting with one side pressed into the back of the couch, legs pulled up, curled beneath him just slightly. A hand on his forehead, rubbing at one temple, leads Daisy to offer the cup of water outright rather than leave it on the table next to him. 

Jon takes it. While he sips, Daisy asks, “How do you want me?”

Jon thinks for a moment. He takes a slow, long drink of water, then carefully places it on a nearby coaster. “You can sit down,” he tells her quietly, “and I’ll sit in your lap.”

It’s not exactly what she’s expecting, but it gives her a better idea of what he wants. Daisy sits, and after a minute of dragging things out, Jon climbs on top of her. He settles in with his legs stretched over her lap and his cheek resting on her shoulder. Daisy rocks forward, just a bit, so he can slide his arm between her back and the couch. When Daisy settles back, Jon sighs. His other arm is curled up against his front, like he’s nursing some sort of wound. Daisy uses the hand that isn’t against his back to unbutton the cuff. “Rough day?” she asks, tone the same as it always is. 

“Sort of. I’d rather not talk about it.” 

Daisy’s fingers sneak up his sleeve, now that she’s set it loose. At every point their bodies meet, she feels Jon finally start to relax. 

“What about you? How was work?” 

“Same as ever,” Daisy says. She rests her chin on his crown, closing her eyes. “We don’t have to talk.” 

She hears and feels the way Jon takes a breath, but all that comes out is a slow, relieved sigh. Daisy rubs at the crook of his arm with her thumb, drawing soft circles. Gradually, she moves her other hand up his back and into his hair. Jon makes a little noise when her fingers touch the back of his neck. 

At some point, Jon squirms, just for a second. Once he’s settled again, he presses his nose into Daisy’s clavicle and whispers, “Thank you for this.” 

“It’s what I’m here for,” is the obvious response. 


End file.
